crying a dry river at dusk
The Dr. was just here, having left less than a half an hour ago, leaving my mind to wander aimlessly as I try and process all that was said and why it what said regarding my now rapid and critical decline.
I feel like a lost soul in a land quite foreign to me, left alone for the remainder of the evening at least as that is how it always works after the doctor speaks with family members that are present to listen, but not present to offer any degree of comfort, hope or good will.
Four days before Christmas and I sit,
alone,
with my thoughts realizing how lucky I am to have made it this far but knowing my journey has been long, my body weary and in need of some TLC that I will not receive as I never do and do not expect it.
No questions were asked as they sat around the dinner table and ate, never offering up a bite, even after just hearing that the disease induced weight loss will take my life in a time much shorter than I had hoped for, but expected...thinking I am ready but never ready for that moment when all goes dark and I no longer
am but a memory.
He spoke with me privately about how the loss of protein and the body's inability to digest it will cause one organ to feed off the other and I bluntly asked if the process had started only to receive the answer I thought, a somber yes from his mouth, the look of his eyes directly toward and into mine, to the core of my soul, as if he wanted or wished he could do something, knowing time was not on my side nor his side and options were slim at best.
I will try and keep busy this evening and finish a gift for David and his family that can long be remembered, a gift of talent that hopefully will be cherished and not criticized upon first glance as it was earlier when I showed it, on accident, to my mother thinking she might have something positive to say and then realizing if that were the case I would not have found my first completed pieces thrown in a pile in the garage upon my arrival, the frames destroyed and in pieces, the colors full of dust, signifying the lack of care that had taken place over the years.
Very similar to the bronzed baby shoes I found stuffed in a corner being used to hold up mold ridden and water stained books, many of the titles indistinguishable until I wiped them off with the shirt I was wearing that day, almost as if they had been forgotten as I have so many years ago. I still ask about the large pieces of work that once were framed and hanging on the walls in the last place I remember as a home to come to, in St. Louis, and still, no one is willing to admit where they are or why they are, just knowing they are not here is an answer that speaks volumes to me...
I will eat something in silence, hearing the fork clang against the bowl, left over noodles with some ground turkey I made last night and then I will play ball with Ashley as I continue to wander and be thankful for all that I have met and all I have experienced on a journey once thought to be short in duration, now to the dismay and dissatisfaction of many, a journey that has lasted too long
but
a journey I can call my own, my life.
I feel like a lost soul in a land quite foreign to me, left alone for the remainder of the evening at least as that is how it always works after the doctor speaks with family members that are present to listen, but not present to offer any degree of comfort, hope or good will.
Four days before Christmas and I sit,
alone,
with my thoughts realizing how lucky I am to have made it this far but knowing my journey has been long, my body weary and in need of some TLC that I will not receive as I never do and do not expect it.
No questions were asked as they sat around the dinner table and ate, never offering up a bite, even after just hearing that the disease induced weight loss will take my life in a time much shorter than I had hoped for, but expected...thinking I am ready but never ready for that moment when all goes dark and I no longer
am but a memory.
He spoke with me privately about how the loss of protein and the body's inability to digest it will cause one organ to feed off the other and I bluntly asked if the process had started only to receive the answer I thought, a somber yes from his mouth, the look of his eyes directly toward and into mine, to the core of my soul, as if he wanted or wished he could do something, knowing time was not on my side nor his side and options were slim at best.
I will try and keep busy this evening and finish a gift for David and his family that can long be remembered, a gift of talent that hopefully will be cherished and not criticized upon first glance as it was earlier when I showed it, on accident, to my mother thinking she might have something positive to say and then realizing if that were the case I would not have found my first completed pieces thrown in a pile in the garage upon my arrival, the frames destroyed and in pieces, the colors full of dust, signifying the lack of care that had taken place over the years.
Very similar to the bronzed baby shoes I found stuffed in a corner being used to hold up mold ridden and water stained books, many of the titles indistinguishable until I wiped them off with the shirt I was wearing that day, almost as if they had been forgotten as I have so many years ago. I still ask about the large pieces of work that once were framed and hanging on the walls in the last place I remember as a home to come to, in St. Louis, and still, no one is willing to admit where they are or why they are, just knowing they are not here is an answer that speaks volumes to me...
I will eat something in silence, hearing the fork clang against the bowl, left over noodles with some ground turkey I made last night and then I will play ball with Ashley as I continue to wander and be thankful for all that I have met and all I have experienced on a journey once thought to be short in duration, now to the dismay and dissatisfaction of many, a journey that has lasted too long
but
a journey I can call my own, my life.
posted by the warrior at 6:04 PM
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